Avenging the World
by KosmikQuixotic
Summary: My take on "modern girl from our world goes into fictional world" trope. Arden was a relatively normal sixteen year old in our modern world, until she died. When she's reincarnated into a cruel world of death, violence, misery, and corruption, all she wants is to fix that world, and find whoever broke it. First in a very long, quite possibly endless series.
1. Life Before Death

**Hey! So, this is a good ole ****_Modern Girl Goes to Fandom World_****TM fic. First in a neverending series it seems. Seriously, I have a ton of drafts floating around my Google Drive. It's kind of upsetting. Like, any fandom I am in, you can bet there's a fanfic in progress for. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own stuff. Duh.**

**Chapter One: Life Before Death**

Arden woke to her alarm blaring in her ears. She rubbed her bleary eyes, picking eye-boogers out of her tear ducts. She angled her head to see her clock, squinting to make out the vibrant blue numbers. The clock read 4:49A.M. Arden had a thing where she refused to set her clocks to any normal time, like 4:30, or 4:45, or 5:00, or 3 in the afternoon. Whenever she set an alarm, it was always some obscure time, today being a prime example. A loud groan erupted from Arden as she wondered whose idea it was to get up so early. She rolled over so she was laying on her stomach. Then she rolled again. As she rolled once more, she ran out of mattress to roll on, and made impact with the hardwood floor of her bedroom. She repeated the groan.

Slowly, she climbed to her feet, and stumbled out into the hallway, clumsily avoiding creaky floorboards. Arden leaned against the railing heavily, making her way sluggishly down the wooden staircase. She meandered into the kitchen and bunglingly set a pot of coffee on to brew. After retrieving her mug from the dishwasher, she slumped in one of the abused kitchen chairs and absentmindedly picked at the torn red fabric.

The coffeemaker made a little ding noise, and Arden grasped the handle of the coffeepot, carefully filling her mug as high as she could without spilling.

By the time Arden had drained her coffee mug for the third time, it was 5:15, and she was finally alert. She rinsed off her mug in the sink and placed it in the dishwasher, then sped back up the stairs for a shower.

While waiting for the water to heat up, Arden sat on the toilet seat, wondering if she ever finished her calc homework for the weekend. Unable to recall, she sprang up and retrieved her binder from her black bag, which was lovingly adorned with pins and patches. Upon discovering that she did, indeed, complete her homework, she let out a whoop of joy, and jumped in the shower.

After discovering that her hairbrush was traitorously absent, and a few minutes of searching and coming up with nothing, she decided she didn't really care about her mop of red waves. She twisted her hair up into a messy bun, and secured it with bobby pins and a poofy black hairtie.

She then decided she didn't really care about any of her appearance, and grabbed whatever she first saw out of the closet. She ended up with a fairly decent pair of skinny jeans, and a dark green XXL shirt that hung halfway down her thighs, and was riddled with holes. She snagged a black tanktop to wear under the hole-y shirt, and donned her clothes.

She trotted out into the living room, and turned the TV over to her favorite weather channel, the one with cartoon clouds and bad elevator music. Based on the forecast, it was going to be chilly, and thusly she chose to wear her softest, fuzziest socks and her boots that had appalling pattern, but soft soles and great arch support.

She poked her head into the master bedroom, wondering if her mom ever returned home the night before. She saw only the same empty, unmade bed and sighed. She didn't really expect anyone to be there.

Then, she snatched her good ole laptop. It was a bit slow, and had a tendency to overheat in the summer, but she loved it nonetheless. She flipped on the lights in the lounge, and curled up on the couch. She traced imaginary patterns with her mouse while waiting for the system to start up. After a few long minutes, she came to the decision that she would watch SnK for the umpteenth time.

Oblivious to the amount of time that had passed, Arden glanced up at the clock on the wall, and hoped that she'd misread it. First period had started 3 minutes before.

For a moment, she considered just skipping, but when she imagined Mr. Neren's condescending tone, she decided against it. She quickly scurried up the staircase, grabbed her backpack, and turned around with a flourish. Opting out of racing down the stairs, she slid down the banister, quickly scooped the keys to her battered old truck off the counter, and sprinted out the door, scarcely remembering to lock it behind her.

She hopped into the front seat, and threw the car into reverse, screeching down the road, far above the speed limit.

She hardly saw the semi-truck coming. It caught in her periphery, and only then did she realize that she was unbuckled. She desperately slammed her foot down on the brakes, but it was ineffectual. It seemed as though time was speeding up, contrary to what they always say in books about it slowing. No, no, it was going fast. Very. She heard a loud scream, and belatedly realized that it was her. Then came a second of the worst pain she'd ever felt. 'Goodbye, world." She though dramatically as everything faded to nothing.

**Wow, hi! This kind of being rewritten a little, but mainly my writing is probably gonna improve the further we go along? Hopefully? You'll probably get a headache reading some of my old stuff, but hey, what can you do? Maybe when I finish this version I'll update a slightly modified one ****_again! _**


	2. Waiting

**Disclaimer I don't own stuff. Duh.**  
**So, these chapters are kind of disgustingly short. I was gonna go for the short chapters quick updates thing, but that never really works out for me... so, short chapters, slow updates? :/ Sorry guys.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Waiting**

Blackness and silence. Not so much darkness, as the absence of light.

Arden was certain that she'd died. She felt no pain; if she lived, she'd definitely be in agony. She tried to open her eyes, to make a sound, wiggle her fingers, to do anything, but she couldn't. It wasn't so much paralysis, as that she lacked a body to manipulate. She was just a lost mind submerged in a pool of absolute nothingness. No dark or light; no cold or warmth; no wetness or dryness; no up or down; no sound or silence: only pure nothingness.

The only sentiment she felt was that she'd returned to the state after being gone for a long time; like forgetting how your grandma's house smells until you visit for the holidays.

She simply waited. Waited for something to happen.

Arden came to realize that nothing was going to happen. She thought.

She thought about school, about the calculus homework Mr. Neren would never receive. She could almost hear him cracking a sarcastic joke about her absence.

She wondered how he would feel upon hearing about her death. Probably nothing. Maybe he could crack a sarcastic joke about the dangers of texting and driving.

She thought about doing her laundry, and that huge pile of clothes in the bottom of her closet.

She thought about everything there was to think about.

She thought about her past, conjuring up every memory that she could, engraving them in to her mind.

She thought about her seventh birthday.

She'd wanted to go to a waterpark, but her papa said no. She knew now that it was because they couldn't afford such an extravagance, but her seven year old self was distraught. Her papa took them on a picnic in the park. She remembered him setting out the blanket, her mother taking little finger sandwiches out of one of those woven picnic baskets.

She remember that, after they ate, her papa gave her a piggyback ride, and raced around in the meadow, both of them laughing. She remembered, at one point, he took her wrists, and spun her around, the skirt of her new dress flowing around her as she twirled. It was the best birthday she'd ever had.

By the end, when she was sitting in her papa's lap, her mom stroking her hair, she was so glad they didn't go to the waterpark.

Arden suspected her eyes would be wet with tears if she had eyes to cry with.

She thought about just after her father's death. That little light inside her mother, the one that you run on, that little light burnt out. She remembered looking into her mother's glazed-over eyes. Cold, lifeless, like a dead fish. She remembered crying, begging for her papa to come back. Then she had realized the cold hard truth. She hadn't just lost her father that cold winter night; she lost her mother too.

Years later, her mother still hadn't been over it. Her eyes still had the cold, dead look to them.

Arden thought about the many times she had waited outside her school in the rain. She'd waited for her mother to wake from her drunken stupor, perhaps remember that she had a daughter.

The thing was, that's all her mother wanted. To forget. Her mother didn't understand how she was meant to look at her daughter when all she was was a reminder. A reminder of what she lost. Arden looked too much like him, too much like her father. They had the same eyes. Those gentle, kind, forgiving grey eyes.

* * *

**Okay, well, that's chapter two. Like I said, disgustingly short. I've got a plan coming along, I promise.**

**UGHHHHH EVERYTHING GOT CORRUPTED AGAIN- WHY FF . NET ? WHY?**


	3. Birth

**Do I really need to put a disclaimer here still? Really? I don't own stuff. Duh.**

**Chapter 3: Birth**

Arden continued to wait for what felt like an eternity, though she'd long since lost all concept of time. She'd forgotten what light looked like; what sounds sound like; what smells smell like. She'd forgotten how the breeze felt on warm, sweaty skin. How a cool scoop of ice cream tasted on a hot summer day.

As she completed that thought, she began to… feel. Passing waves of warmth and wetness made her aware of the edges of her body, along with an overwhelming tingly feeling. She still had that strange sense of weightlessness, and the total absence of light, but she.. existed again.

Time had passed, she was sure of it.

Soon, she was aware of lighter and darker shadows, and it was as if she was peering through a thick fog at a dark cave. Arden was, of course, confused by that. It was when she began to feel herself tumbling around, like she was constantly doing somersaults, that she thought she'd lost whatever sanity she might've had left.

She heard distant, muffled voices, as though sound was reaching her through water, and was naturally concerned.

More time passed, and she came to a rather troublesome conclusion.

She had recalled a particular lesson in 10th grade biology, about a fetus's awareness within the womb. It had been described.. pretty much exactly as her experience was, though now it had a much more personal feel.

She wasn't some detached, pimply 15 year old, waiting for lunchtime, no, now she was experiencing everything firsthand.

Arden adjusted to the fact that she was, for all intents and purposes, a fetus, living inside of a womb. She began to think of herself as a sort of parasite, in a way. Well, a sentient, highly intelligent, biologically advanced parasite -was that cocky to think of herself that way?- but a parasite, nonetheless.

* * *

It was like the walls were caving in on her.

She was aware she was likely being.. birthed, and with that awareness came a sort of disgusted feeling. She just tried to focus on the job at hand which was… getting out of… the womb.

A pinprick of light appeared in the dark, and as the pinprick grew larger, Arden grew even more uncomfortable. Not only was she feeling the discomfort of her situation in general, but there was this almost painful, suffocating compression. Suddenly, she was engulfed by the light, blinded by its brilliance, although her thin eyelids were tightly closed.

She coughed and spluttered, trying to clear what she now recognized as fluid from inside that woman's -her mother's- body.

_Oh._

_Oh God._

_I'm a baby?_

Of course, she had recognized that she was a baby before, but… the reality of the situation hadn't really hit her yet.

_Are babies supposed to remember their previous lives?_

She tried to speak, what she was going to say, she knew not, but she tried, nonetheless. Her voice came out as a wail, her vocal cords not yet the strongest.

Then she thought of something. How was her brain already developed? Developed enough to be self-aware, and able to have detailed memory of her previous life, at the very least.

Pushing that troublesome thought past her, she realized that she should probably be crying. She was an infant, after all.

So she did. she cried. At first, it was pretend, because that is what babies do, they cry, but it didn't take long for her to be crying for real.

She died. She fucking _died._

She would never be able to go back. She'd never sleep in her bed again. She'd never go to the coffee shop on the corner of Poplar and Abbey Road. She'd never go to school again. She'd never doze off, curled up on her beanbag reading manga again. She'd never wear the fleecey pajamas her aunt gave her again.

A nurse, she thought, picked her up. The blanket they wrapped her in was scratchy and rough against her newborn, too-sensitive skin.

Arden began to observe her surroundings, and came to grasp that she wasn't in a hospital. It wasn't fluorescent, and it didn't smell of antiseptic and the undeniable stench of death. There weren't white tile floors and white walls, and white, sterile everything. She looked up at the nurse, but saw that they weren't one, not really. They didn't look like a nurse. More like… she tried to recall what nurses were referred to in the old days. A midwife?

_So I'm not in a hospital._

_Why am I not in the hospital? Am I somewhere in the past or something?_

She concluded that they must be somewhere before the time of modern hospitals.

Arden was exhausted. Simply spent. She'd done too much thinking. Too much had happened.

With that, she shut her little infant eyes, and passed out.

* * *

**I was gonna make this sequence longer, but I just kind of... didn't. Yeah. I don't know.**

***Friendly reminder that reviewers get a slice of three layer chocolate cake, a too-long, uncomfortable hug with a weird back-pat, and my undying respect.**


	4. Seven Years Until It All Ends Again

**Chapter 4: Seven Years Until It All Ends Again**

Arden's new mother prepared to take her daughter with her to a faraway city. Though, Arden supposed, she was not exactly her "new" mother anymore, after all, it'd been 7 years.

It was such a long period of time, but it felt so distant to Arden. Like she was watching it from behind thick glass. Days seemed to pass like minutes to her as she grew older.

Arden observed the woman who darted around the kitchen, gathering up things needed for the trip. Her mother- Esmeralda was her name- was young. Beautiful. She had long, glossy black hair which was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck, and the kindest eyes. A gorgeous emerald green, sparkling with happiness. That euphoria many women get after birth, that pure happiness at having creating life; Esme still carried that feeling with her.

She had slightly rounded cheeks, and a heart-shaped face, a gentle smile ever present on her lips.

No one could help but love Esme. She just.. glowed. Wherever she was, one could likely hear her humming whatever tune. She had a light, silky, calming voice, the kind of person you'd hire to record for audiobooks.

They lived in a small village, in the distant past. Arden was unsure of what country they were in. The language spoken there seemed Germanic, but muddled, like it had been mixed with a bunch of other European languages.

They were going to the faraway city for supplies of some sort; they apparently couldn't wait for the traders to come to the small settlement, that or the supplies simply couldn't be bought from those traders.

Arden believed they lived close to a high-walled city called… Kuroruba.. Chlorba? The accents were strange, despite her having lived among them for seven years. They just never sounded right to her.

The village was quite small, composed of perhaps 50 people. She was a quiet, disconnected child, though she was always showed respect where it was due.

Arden wasn't aware of the city they were traveling to, only that it was much farther away than Chlorba.

* * *

They would be leaving soon, with another family from the village. They were excessively wealthy, and why they lived in such a small town was beyond her. Lancaster was their family name. Kind people. Arden's family consistently rode with them in their carriage on trips out of town.

She thought she heard that it was perhaps a 5 hour trip from there to Chlorba.

Upon realizing that the people around her were not English-speaking, she listened intently to conversations carried on around her. Soon enough, she picked up the language.

Esme took Arden's hand and lead her outside to a horse-drawn carriage. The horses were beautiful stallions, one of them a milky white color, the other brown with white splotches, like a cow.

Inside the carriage the Lancasters were already sitting, ready for departure.

Arden was quiet the whole trip, nothing new to her companions. They chattered idly, seldom asking anything of Arden. She tuned them out fairly successfully, finding little merit in paying attention, and fell asleep a few hours into the trip/

* * *

The carriage jerked to a stop, jarring Arden from her sleep. She'd been having a dream. About what, she couldn't say.

Esme slightly shifted Arden's arms and lifted her up, hopping out of the carriage. When she set the child on the ground, her young, wide eyes swept the area, taking in her surroundings.

They appeared to be in a market, little carts set up all around them. Vendors shouted in attempts to acquire customers.

"Apples! Fresh apples! Double the price and they're still cheap!"

Her eyes caught on a gargantuan, towering wall. The Great Wall of China? She wondered. But, if we're in China, wouldn't we speak Chinese?

She tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Yes, dear? Would you like an apple?"

Arden shook her head. "Momma? What's that?" She inquired, pointing at the wall.

"Sweetheart, that's Wall Maria." She replied softly, in that soft, silky tone of hers. "It's here to protect us, you know that."

Arden's heart skipped a beat. two. No. _No, it can't be. _She thought._ I can't be.. here. It's not- It's not.. possible. _Her thoughts were slow, stuttering._ It's been _seven years_. How could I never have noticed?_

_If that's Wall Maria, then this must be… I'm in SNK?_

_Oh this is not good. This is very not good._

She was numb. Shocked. Trying to snap out of her daze, she shook her head.

"Oh. Right." She said, breathless. "Erm, where are we?"

"It's one of the outlying districts. It's called Shiganshina. Haven't your father and I been over this?" Esme was concerned.

Arden almost laughed. Almost.

She always thought Chlorba sounded familiar.

A man nearby was reading a newspaper. Her sharp eyes picked out the date.

Her heart sank.

12 April 838.

Assuming that that world would take the direction of the anime and manga… _seven years. I only have seven years._

Seven years until the Colossal Titan would kick through the gate in Shiganshina.

Seven years until the Armored Titan would crash through the main gate of Wall Maria.

Seven years until 10,000 people would die. Countless more.

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry for the update. Apparently this chapter was hella corrupted. Yeah, so I changed a few things. Mainly Arden's age. It's kind of totally ridiculous to have Arden be in the Southern Division of the Cadets? Like? She's Eastern? So, yeah. It might be awhile before she gets some interaction with those characters we all know and love. I'm considering having her join the Battle for Trost. That's still up in the air though.**


	5. Progress

**Chapter 5: Progress**

After discovering where she was, Arden went into a depression. She knew that she would die, that there would be nothing she could do. Every once in awhile, she would get passing sparks of hope. She'd think that maybe, just maybe, she might survive. Maybe, just maybe, she could change something. Then the sparks would fade, and she'd be thrown back into a pit of swirling existentialism. Pondering the meaning of human life, searching for answers in her own mind as to why she was there. Wondering what her purpose was. Thinking about what would happen after death. Would she be thrown into another world? Would she reborn into this one, forced to repeat life- a never ending cycle?

She couldn't recall how long she'd spent in that state. One day, she just opened her eyes.

One day, everything came into sharp focus, and she made a choice.

She chose to fight.

She chose to get up, and to go out, and to do something. To change something. She still knew she couldn't save the world. She knew that she couldn't save every last human life. She knew she couldn't eradicate the titans, and bring everyone within the walls to freedom. She wasn't interested in saving the world. She wasn't a hero, and she didn't want to be. But what she could do... she could try. She could fight.

So she trained. She went out into the woods, just beyond the fields of her farm, and she trained. Her body was young, slow, and clumsy. She tired easily. She lacked strength, endurance, agility, speed. She didn't have anything going for her. Nothing but her determination. Her determination though, was strong. It was persistent, forever burning, an ember in her very soul.

Maybe she couldn't be a hero. Maybe she couldn't save anyone. But she was damn well going to try.

Her so-called training was slow going. It wasn't easy. Every night, when she snuck back in the house, she was covered in bruises and scabs. Her body ached all over. She'd trudge up the stairs, and pass out as her head hit the pillow.

When her parents had her start school, it was hell. She was surrounded by snot-nosed kids; she had to suffer through learning her ABC's, her 123's, and her DoReMi's... again.

Sure, the language was different, the numbers altered, but it was still the same basic idea. The same damn tedium. She caught up on sleep during classes. In the old world (new world, because it was in the future?- her original world) she had learned meditative practices that allowed her to rest with her eyes open. It wasn't actual sleep, it provided no source of true rest, and it couldn't replace her need for nightly slumber, but it helped with regaining energy.

School did not contribute a single thing to her training. It made it more difficult. With more of her daily energy being subtracted from the equation, she came in with more bruises, more scabs, and far more exhaustion. Naptime was a blessing.

She did make progress though. As time went on, as the years passed, it became less difficult. She came home with less bruises, less scabs. School never got harder. She recalled a particular time in class.

"Today, we'll be learning multiplication!" the teacher had exclaimed in that grating, nasally voice. Arden had been 'sleeping' at the time.

"Arden!"

She snapped out of her meditative slumber. "Yes?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Uh. Could you repeat the question?"

The teacher gave a deep, long-suffering sigh. "Solve the problem on the board."

She looked up. "264." she stated simply, barely glancing.

The teacher looked at her in shock. "I didn't say to guess." she snapped, angry again. "Show how you did it." She motioned towards the chalkboard in the front of the room.

Arden scrambled for an excuse. She'd only done it in her head, and they hadn't yet been taught how to multiply 'larger' numbers. Briefly, she considered how they'd react if she simply said that she worked out the problem mentally.

She, unable to predict any outcome that ended well for herself, drew a lattice, a tool she'd not used since the third grade. Heavily inflecting her voice in a adenoidal manner similar to that of her teacher, she said "Lattice multiplication, also known as gelosia multiplication, is an algorithm suitable for hand calculation. It is mathematically identical to the long multiplication algorithm, but it breaks to process into smaller steps, which some practitioners find better to use with young children. A grid is drawn up, and each cell is split diagonally. The two multiplicands of the product to be calculated are written along the top and right side of the lattice, respectively, with one digit per column-"

"Go to the corner!" the instructor shouted.

"Yes, ma'am." Arden replied in a relative monotone.

She apparently took the tone for sarcasm. "Don't sass me, little miss! The corner!" The teacher's face was bright red, her brow furrowed in fury.

Arden came to a realization then. In this classroom- in any classroom, they didn't care about actually learning, furtherance of knowledge, complex thinking, real-life problem solving. They cared about rote memorization, you had to do things how they taught you, because anything else was wrong, wrong, wrong.

That didn't stop her, though. While she trained her physical self, she trained her mind, as well. She no longer held her once firm grasp of English, but she practiced, meanwhile practicing French, the language course she'd taken for high school credits. She did her simple division, but behind the scenes, she formed stratagems and created formulas to replace the ones she'd forgotten. She worked with her memory, fighting to recall what she'd learned in the psych classes she took for college credit. That memories are never lost, or forgotten, simply buried in one's subconscious, waiting to be dug up and revealed.

**I think this chapter was probably way different before. And a **_**lot **_**longer. You get used to that. Well, it is what it is.**


	6. Visits to Chlorba

**Chapter 6: Visits to Chlorba**

Arden, as she grew older, continued with her visits to Chlorba. Not much had changed for her. More calluses, more muscle, sure. Her mindset was steadfast. The days passed like minutes, never a moment wasted. She filled her days with her studies, her nights with practice and meditation.

She was a quiet child, and her parents were ever concerned for her, but never did it dampen Esme's kind smile or shake her father's dedication to his family. Arden came to love them. She knew she shouldn't grow so close, but they were _good people. _They lived and laughed and were free in their affections. It was new for her.

She was old enough to go to Chlorba without her father's accompaniment. Arden often found rides with the Lancasters, a relatively wealthy family in their village, by volunteering to do work around their home.

They planned to stay the weekend in the city, in the home one of the Lancasters' extremely wealthy associates. Arden planned to express her interest in the military, hoping their connections would be an asset.

Esme gave her daughter a rucksack of necessities, tucked her hair back, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Be safe, my darling." She whispered.

Arden let a gentle smile form. "I'll be careful, mother. You know I'll be back in a few days. Say goodbye to father for me."

"Will do, sweetheart."

Arden clambered up next to the driver, who grunted a greeting at her. She acknowledged him with a sharp nod, and gathered her roughspun cloak about her. Mercer worked for the Lancasters in the stables, and was a rough, quiet man.

They exchanged few words, but Arden felt they had an understanding about them. She flipped down her hood and drew a comb from her bag.

The ride was not terribly long, but there was little to occupy her time, so she set about working knots out of her hair and trying her hand at elaborate braids. She closed her eyes and felt her mother's nimble fingers threading through her hair in memory, weaving it into a complicated nine-strand braid.

Arden had little luck, but practice was good for dexterity.

Having departed late in the evening, night had truly fallen when they arrived in Chlorba. The moon was obscured by clouds. The only light was reflected from oil lamps burning low in their windowsills, and the lanterns hanging off the side of the closed carriage.

They passed through the empty marketplace, eerily quiet in contrast to its regular hustle and bustle. The hooves of the white horses seemed to echo on the cobblestones. Gnats clustered around the lanterns, and Arden pulled her cloak tighter.

Finally, they reached the large estate. She hopped down with all the grace she could muster, suffering from an unfortunate case of jellylegs. The door to the carriage popped open, and Arden rushed over to help Mrs. Lancaster down, earning a grateful smile from the tired woman.

A man emerged from the estate, bowing slightly to the Lancasters, while Arden offset herself into the shadows.

He introduced himself as Carlisle, and welcomed them inside.

Arden was instructed to wait in the foyer while he guided her accompaniment to their room.

She leaned against the cool stone wall, and several moments passed in silence before her trained ears picked up footsteps approaching.

"Ah, sleeping arrangements for the young lady."

Arden cleared her throat. "If you have an extra bed in the servants' quarters, that would be just fine." She intoned smoothly.

"Nonsense. There are guest rooms aplenty. I can have Arlen prepare one in due time."

She coughed slightly. "No, no. Thank you very much, but I can't bear to burden another. Whatever there is already is perfect."

He hummed. "Very well, mistress."

"Er, Arden. Just Arden."

A nod. He lead her through the dim hallways until they reached their destination.

"My sincerest thanks, Carlisle. I find myself quite tired, though. I would be quite appreciative if someone might wake me early in the morning. I have no money to offer, and I'd be ever grateful if I could prove my worth using my own skills." She murmured.

"Very well. I bid you goodnight, Arden." He rejoined with a bow, a perplexed smile on his lips.

**Hmm, so this kind of wasn't planned, it just sort of happened. But here we are! A new chapter is on the horizon, friends! I just got a membership for an MMORPG, and I'm loathe to waste a single second, so that's taking a lot of my time, but I'm going to a Fall Out Boy concert this weekend and I'm suddenly ready to do **_**everything**_**.**


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